


The Last to Know

by xxenjoy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26023375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: Based on a post I have long since lost that said the funniest thing in fics was Geralt and Jaskier arriving at Kaer Morhen to find Jaskier's fucked all the other Witchers. That, but I made it sad.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Past Jaskier/Witchers
Comments: 39
Kudos: 336





	The Last to Know

It took Geralt fifteen years and one of the hardest conversations of his life to ask Jaskier to come with him to Kaer Morhen for the winter and it's taken ten seconds and six words to make him regret the decision entirely. 

They've barely made it through the front door when Lambert spots them and strolls up to greet them. Initially, Geralt is pleased to see him; it's been a long hard year and he's glad for a friendly face. Then Lambert opens his mouth and Geralt's stomach drops into the bottom of his boots.

"Jaskier," Lambert purrs, sparing Geralt only a glance before approaching the bard, "good to see you again." He claps him on the shoulder with a disconcerting familiarity and Geralt glowers at him from his spot next to Jaskier. 

“What d’you mean good to see him again.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier scoffs, placing his hands on his hips, “I’ll-”

“Ran into him outside Wyzima a couple years back, spent a rather delightful night together,” Lambert wiggles his eyebrows, "you planning on staying all winter?"

Jaskier turns to Geralt for an answer but stops when he sees the look on his face. “Doubt I’d make it back down the pass in one piece,” he jokes, though the look he casts at Geralt is concerned.

"Guess we’ll be spending some time together then," Lambert smirks and Geralt can taste bile on the back of his tongue. 

"Enough," he growls, pressing a hand between Jaskier's shoulders and urging him forward. He doesn't let go even when Jaskier moves on his own, and as they pass out of the main hall, Geralt hears Lambert mutter something under his breath, but the blood is rushing too hard in his ears for him to hear it. 

Once they're out of sight, he lets go of Jaskier, ignoring his protests and complains about _manhandling_. They make their way up the stairs and Geralt leads him to the room they're supposed to share. Considering the new information, implied or otherwise, he’s regretting his decision to come this year at all. 

Lambert isn't the only one. Aiden had been no less subtle than Lambert about it, and Geralt had nearly split his tankard in half listening to them reminisce about it. He'd tuned out after a little while and had to leave the room when Lambert suggested Jaskier join them in their room. 

Eskel was easier to stomach, if only a little. And only because Geralt himself had fallen for him early in their years of study at the keep. Those days were long over for the two of them, but he was still able to see the draw there, understand why people would give in to Eskel without so much as a moment of hesitation. Still, knowing Jaskier is one of those people sits like acid in the pit of his stomach. 

Coen is a surprise. Geralt hasn't even seen him in over a decade, so he's not sure when or how Jaskier managed to find him and fall into bed with him, but here they are. 

The one saving grace is that when Vesemir joins them in the evening, Jaskier makes no visible sign of recognition. Geralt keeps quiet, though the relief that floods through him when Vesemir introduces himself is overwhelming. There are four of them left - six including Aiden and Coen - and Jaskier has fucked them all except for Vesemir. Which is little consolation when Geralt is on the wrong side of that list. 

Not that he cares who the bard fucks, because if he was going to start worrying about it, he should have started a long time ago. But these are Geralt's friends, his _family_ \- the only people he has in the world. And Jaskier is willing to take each of them to bed while Geralt is where? Risking his life for a town full of people who won't appreciate it come morning? Sitting alone in their room at an inn? Walking the Path alone? It doesn't matter because there's nothing he can do to change this, and he has no right to be upset with Jaskier about whose bed he chooses to fall into. 

But he hurts in a way he can't quite express, and while the others open a bottle of vodka and pull out their cards, Geralt slips out of the main hall and up to his room. He's already had too much to drink and his head is reeling with the effects of it. He'd like to sit and play with the rest of them, but he can't bear the thought of seeing them all together, thinking about how each one of them would have seduced Jaskier and taken him apart. 

How often has it happened? When? If he goes upstairs now, will Jaskier wind up in one of their beds tonight instead of his? Lambert and Aiden already offered. The thought hurts more than it has any right to and Geralt tamps it down, shoving the door to his room a little too hard. 

Jaskier doesn't come to bed that night. 

The next day is no better. When the others are out in the yard, Geralt finds a corner of the keep that's crumbling and he sets himself to work patching it up. There's so much to do and he's glad for the chance to escape everyone's company for a little while. But eventually, Eskel comes to find him for supper and Geralt has to drag himself away from his task. 

He drinks all the way through supper and after, when the others are gathered around doing whatever it is - Geralt is steadfastly ignoring all of them - he finishes off a second bottle of vodka. It doesn't matter because no one seems worried about what he's doing, but when he gets up to go to bed, Coen calls for him to join them. 

"Your bard was just telling us-" he starts, but Geralt just scowls and cuts him off. 

"Hardly say he's _mine_ ," he slurs, and when Eskel looks up at him there's a dawning realization on his face. And Geralt hates it because it means he didn't know, means Gerlt has less reason to be angry about this. And he wants to be angry.

He starts away, but he trips over something on the floor. He tries to correct himself, but then Jaskier is there, ducking under his arm and pushing him upright. 

"I've got you," he whispers and Geralt just grunts, but he’s too tired, too numb to protest. 

Jaskier helps him up to his room, uncharacteristically quiet, and helps him out of his clothes, much to Geralt's irritation and embarrassment. Geralt is asleep as soon as he hits the bed. 

He's not sure if it's very late or very early when he's awoken by the creak of the bedroom door, but most of the alcohol is out of his system now and he just feels very stupid and very embarrassed. When he leans up and recognizes Jaskier's form in the doorway, both feelings intensify and he throws an arm over his face. 

Jaskier is undeterred. He climbs right up on the bed and straddles Geralt's hips before draping himself over his chest. 

"Look at me," he breathes and Geralt can smell the liquor on his breath. He doesn't move. "Geralt," Jaskier says softly, "you know it didn't mean anything when I was with them, right?" Geralt says nothing and so Jaskier continues. "Sometimes I just like big guys who could just as easily kill me as fuck me, It's a part of that nonexistent survival instinct you keep talking about."

_And yet_ , Geralt thinks, _not me_. He wants to ask why he's not good enough, why everyone else but not him, but he can't bring himself to uncover his eyes, much less speak. 

"It's nothing, honestly-"

"I don't care who you fuck, Jaskier."

"And yet you're up here all alone and you've barely looked at me since we got here." He brushes a stray strand of hair from Geralt's face and sighs. "Either you're disgusted by me or you're jealous and I simply can't bear the idea that you'd hate me for this. Tell me it's not that." Geralt huffs but says nothing. 

Jaskier shuffles up further so they're chest-to-chest and he ducks his head down next to Geralt's ear. 

"If you want me to," he breathes, "I'll fuck you too. I think about it all the time, you know. Fantasizing about climbing into your lap and fucking myself on that magnificent cock of yours. You do know why I don't, right?"

" _Please_ ," Geralt grits out, "enlighten me." Jaskier's lips brush against the shell of his ear and Geralt shudders despite himself. 

"Because I love you too much for that, darling. Because as much as I would love it and as much as you deserve to be fucked nice and proper, I couldn't bear to have you once and never again." Jaskier sighs and buries his face into Geralt's neck, humming softly and pressing kisses into his skin. 

Heat rolls up the back of Geralt's neck unbidden but he keeps quiet, unsure of how to respond. In the silence, Jaskier falls asleep, one hand still curled around the side of Geralt's neck. But Geralt remains awake, staring up at the ceiling from under his arm and he knows there's no way he'll be falling asleep tonight now. 

In the morning, Jaskier is, unsurprisingly, missing so Geralt drags himself out of bed and makes for the balcony. He isn't ready to face the others quite yet, especially not if they know he's the only one Jaskier hasn't been with. He squeezes his eyes shut and leans against the railing, listening to the sounds of the wind in the trees and water running a few miles off. 

He's been sitting there for some time, silent in the cool morning air when he hears the door open again behind him. He pricks his ears, listening for any sign of who it is, but Jaskier's scent hits him first. It's tainted with something he's never smelled on the bard before and as Jaskier approaches, coming to stand next to him, he realizes it's nervousness. 

"Wasn't sure if you'd still be here," he says and Geralt shrugs, readjusting to lean on his forearms. 

"It's my room."

"Right, of course. I er, I guess I owe you an explanation-"

"You don't owe me anything, Jaskier, you can sleep with who you wish."

"I mean about what I said last night."

"You don't-" Geralt starts but Jaskier cuts him off.

"Before you start telling me what I do and don't want or feel, I want you to know I mean it." Jaskier hesitates just for a brief moment before he sighs and turns back to Geralt, "and I won't' take it back just because you don't believe it." He crosses silently to stand next to Geralt, leaning against the railing so only inches separate them. 

"I didn't even know you when I met Coen, not really. It was just after we parted ways the first time." When Geralt doesn't respond, he continues. "Lambert was a year or so later. The first time," he winces at this and Geralt does his best not to comment. "The second was a few years ago after you left me in Wyzima that one time."

"After we fought," Geralt remembers. Jaskier hums his assent. Geralt's chest tightens. They'd only fought that night because Jaskier had risked his life, stupidly, to try and interfere with a hunt. Geralt had only been trying to protect him and had, apparently, chased him right toward Lambert."

"Aiden was with him then." He doesn't elaborate but Geralt understands. After everything he's seen and heard Jaskier do over the years, a threesome with a pair of Witchers isn't really that far-fetched. He wants to ask about Eskel, but he doesn't have the strength. 

Of all the Witchers that ever called Kaer Morhen their home, Eskel is the most like him in every way. Before Geralt's final trials, even Vesemir failed to tell them apart from time to time and the thought of Jaskier sleeping with him leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, makes him want to hurl himself off the balcony. Because he was there the whole time and Jaskier still found his way to Eskel instead. 

"Eskel-" is the only word Jaskier gets out before Geralt stops him. 

"I don't want to know when or why," he says, "just... how many times?"

"Just once. It was... too much. He reminded me of you." Jaskier turns his head just enough to look at him and Geralt doesn't face him, but he watches him out of the corner of his eye. "I never meant to hurt you, I didn't think it would. I didn't think you cared enough to-" he falters and drops his chin to his chest. 

Geralt considers that. He knows Jaskier never means to hurt him, but it always seems to happen anyway and he's left to deal with the mess on his own. This is no different. Except Jaskier seems genuinely upset and after last night's confessions, Geralt isn't sure what to think. But Jaskier's voice keeps coming back to him, soft and certain against his ear _I couldn't bear to have you once and never again_. 

"Why do you think it would never happen again?" 

Jaskier turns with a start, shifting his whole body to face him. He considers Geralt's expression for a moment and huffs a humourless laugh. 

"Really?" he asks, "like you don't already know. Geralt, when was the last time you let me touch you? Even in the bath, you flinch away from my touch. If we ever wound up in bed together, it could only happen by accident - a drunken mistake or something. I can't imagine you repeating the same mistake twice. Feels like a very un-Witchery thing to do." He turns away again with a deep exhale and Geralt considers his words carefully. 

"What if it wasn't a mistake?"

"What if _what_ wasn't?"

" _Us_ ," Geralt breathes and the word feels like tar on his tongue, tacky and thick. 

"How could it not be?" Jaskier's voice sounds small and far away, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. "You've made it clear so many times how you feel about me."

"I lied."

"What about?"

Geralt takes a deep breath, turning to look at Jaskier and take in the pain on his face before resigning himself to the truth. "Everything," he whispers and at first he's not sure Jaskier even hears him, so he shifts, looks back out over the valley, and continues. "I hate that you were with them," he admits, "hate thinking about you with them." Geralt sighs and picks at a loose bit of stone on the underside of the railing. "Wish it had been me instead."

Jaskier moves and Geralt tries not to think about the fact that he's turning _away_ , but then a soft hand lands on his shoulder. It takes everything in him not to flinch at the touch, especially now. He's already feeling raw and exposed and he's still feeling shitty from his hangover and lack of sleep, but he holds still for Jaskier because he's already come this far. 

"Geralt," he says softly, "would you want me?" Jaskier's voice is light and unsteady in a way he's never heard before but he slides up behind him smoothly, letting his hands slip to Geralt's waist. “For more than just sex? For more than just one night?” He moves slowly, like a spooked animal, leaning into Geralt's space and pressing up against his back. Hot breath puffs against his neck and Geralt shuts his eyes, the rest of his senses trained on Jaskier. Lips brush against his skin and everything from the days before is forgotten, replaced by the simple touch of skin on skin and Geralt presses back against him. 

"I'm yours, Geralt," he breathes, just above a whisper, "if you want me." Jaskier's hands slip from his waist, winding around his stomach and he holds him there, chin hooked over his shoulder and breathing against his neck. "I never meant to hurt you. You don't know what it's like to think your feelings aren't reciprocated." Geralt pauses.

"I do."

Jaskier's hands slip to his waist, turning him slowly and Geralt lets himself be moved, lets himself appreciate the softness of Jaskier's hands on him. Lets himself want it. But when Jaskier leans in, lips pressing lightly against his own, it feels wrong. As gently as he can, Geralt shrugs away from him, pulling out of Jaskier's grasp. 

"I can't," he says, dropping his gaze to the floor beneath their feet. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"Okay," Jaskier breathes, but he sounds defeated and Geralt can smell the worry that overtakes him. "How can I fix this?"

"I just need time."

"Right. Of course. Why don't you come down to breakfast and we can talk later." Jaskier's fingers brush down his hip before falling away altogether and Geralt watches after him. It feels like an ending of sorts before anything could actually begin. And he delays following Jaskier down to the kitchen. 

He does want him. Has wanted him for so long, but every time Jaskier looks at him all he can think of is whether he looked at the others like that, whether he touched them the same way. And he hates himself for it. He's watched Jaskier fling himself into the arms of countless strangers, so why is it that this matters so much to him?

It takes Geralt the better part of the day before he's able to face Jaskier again and when he does, he finds him in the guest room, leaning over the balcony. He's thought about it as much as he dares to and come up with nothing, but he can't just ignore Jaskier for the rest of his life. Not especially, when Jaskier hasn't done anything wrong.

Jaskier turns as soon as he hears Geralt approaching, pulling up a soft, if not restrained smile. It jabs at something deep in Geralt's chest and he forces his feet to move forward, leaning over next to Jaskier against the railing. 

"Was there anyone else?" he asks, "anyone I don't know about?"

"One," he says simply and something in Geralt breaks at his easy response. Jaskier wants to make this better and Geralt hates how he feels about it because nothing is actually wrong. "I don't remember his name, from the bear school. He was the last."

"I-" Geralt starts, "I hate that they were with you and I wasn't." His chest constricts with the confession and Jaskier turns to him. "But you didn't do anything wrong. You're allowed to make your own decisions, Jaskier, even if I don't like them."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You asked what you can do and I don't have an answer for you." He shuts his eyes as the bitter scent of fear hits his nose. "Stay?" he asks, "tonight. With me?"

"I thought you didn't want me- I thought I-"

"I can't stop thinking about you with them," Geralt admits, "but pushing you away isn't going to help." For the first time, Jaskier perks up, glancing up at him. 

"Then let me help. Let me replace those thoughts with new ones." He presses up close, sliding a hand over Geralt's cheek. "As soon as you're ready."

"You'll stay tonight?"

"If it'll help, of course."


End file.
